


Blame It On The Rain

by ClassyNerd



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Jealousy, Kirkwall, rainstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyNerd/pseuds/ClassyNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris. She would recognize him anywhere. His white hair that hung over his green eyes, his strong frame that carried a greatsword upon his back. His lyrium markings. And his chiseled jaw and brooding demeanor. But he was not alone.</p>
<p>The Champion was with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame It On The Rain

It was raining heavily in the market. Not many people had come through that day. Cassie stood beneath the shelter of her booth, looking gloomily at the dark sky above. Because of the stormy weather, no one bought her merchandise. She crossed her arms, leaning against the wooden pole that upheld her small shelter. Other merchants were in their booths, doing the same as she. Absentmindedly she began whistling a tune beneath her breath. A loud crack of thunder sounded above Kirkwall. She still whistled her tune, until she saw something that made her stop abruptly.  
  
He was here.  
  
Fenris. She would recognize him anywhere. His white hair that hung over his green eyes, his strong frame that carried a greatsword upon his back. His lyrium markings. And his chiseled jaw and brooding demeanor. But he was not alone.  
  
The Champion was with him.  
  
An attractive woman, standing about 5'8, with black hair that fell to her waist and piercing ocean blue eyes that sat above well defined cheekbones. She was a formidable woman. Cassie felt so small, standing only 4'11 inches with auburn curls and grey eyes; plus her round face and slight figure. How could she compare to the Champion's beauty and feminine strength? And they were always together. He was always by her side. Right now his hand was resting protectively upon the small of her back. Cassie shrank further into her booth, hoping to not be seen by them. They were laughing, well, more like she was laughing. At least he was smiling. Running through the rain, they hurried on by. She sighed in relief. He was gone.  
  
She picked up her tune again, fiddling with the items in her booth. All of it was jewelry. She made them all herself, the precious beads threaded together into separate masterpieces.   
  
"How much do these cost?" A deep voice startled her. Looking up from her counter, she blushed as she realized who was standing here. It was him, his piercing green eyes boring into her own swirling grey ones.  
  
"It d-depends on which one you choose," she answered after she collected herself. She looked down at her work quickly, avoiding his gaze. "This necklace is one sovereign, but there are cheaper ones such as this that only cost thirty silver." Her hands motioned at various necklaces as she talked rapidly. The rain created a staccato symphony in the background, keeping in time with her heartbeat.   
  
He picked up a necklace. "How much is this?" She chanced a glance at the object he was holding. It's red beads intertwined with each other, with a ruby red diamond dangling at the center.   
  
"That's five sovereigns. My most expensive one." She waited with baited breath to see if he'd protest and walk away, but he didn't.  
  
"It's beautiful. Did you make it yourself?" He asked as if he was truly interested.  
  
"Yes. They say if you put the ruby in the sunlight, it reflects the sun and turns the color of blood." She almost winced when she said the words, they were hardly the most appealing.    
  
"I'll take it." She looked up then, having no choice. He counted out five sovereigns from a small leather bag on his belt. "Here you go," he said, handing out the coins. She hastily took them, avoiding his gaze. "My thanks," he said with a dip of his head as he left. She noticed he gave her a small smile, which made her smile in return.  "Your welcome," she whispered so quietly she was sure he didn't hear her. Once he left her sight, she leaned up against the post holding up the market stand. Sighing happily, she began to whistle the tune she had started earlier, keeping in time with the rain drops and rolling thunder.   
  
As the merchants stored away their merchandise, Cassie began to do the same. The rain still poured in sheets and lightning adorned the sky. As she began to leave, a red object caught her eye. Leaning over, she picked up the sopping object in one hand while balancing her load in the other. Peering closer at it, she almost dropped it when she realized what it was. Or at least who it belonged too. She'd only seen one person with this scrap of cloth hanging around his wrist. Someone she wished to avoid.   
  
Fenris.   
  
Biting her lower lip, she puzzled over this new piece of information. Sure, she could leave it here. But he'd wonder where it went and very possibly come to the market in search of it. Another option was to keep it until he came to the market and then return it. Or . . . Hawke. Perhaps Hawke would return it for her. She slowly trudged through the rain, dreading the moment she'd have to talk with the woman. Face to face. Hawke was a good person, but she had _him._  The one with eyes so green she could stare at them for a thousand years. Shaking the image of his eyes from her mind, she hurried to her home and dropped off her items; after washing the mud off of his sash, she continued her journey to the streets of Hightown. Hightown. A place where all the snobs gathered in one place to scoff at the poorer citizens. She had earned more than one look of contempt as she traversed it's streets, though that was on rare occasion. Some of that was due to the fact that she was an elf, and dwelt in Lowtown. As she mused over these thoughts, her feet lead her directly to Hawke's doorstep. Her families crest hung above the door, polished from the pouring rain. She looked at it glumly, then held out her hand to rap briskly on the heavy door. No answer. Rapping again a bit more loudly, the door swung open and a dwarf with with a trimmed beard greeted her.   
  
"Welcome serah. May I help you with anything?" He asked kindly as the edges around his eyes crinkled, and she couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I'm looking for Serah Hawke."   
  
"Oh," he laughed, "isn't everyone? I believe she's down at the Hanged Man. She likes to go there now and then. Shall I tell her you called?"  
  
"No, I'll be back some other time. Thank you." She said and walked away, not noticing a woman watching her from the window above wearing a smile on her face.   
  
As he smiled and shut the door, she looked at the sash in her hand with a frown on her face. "What am I going to do with you now?" She whispered, then considered the possibility that had crossed her mind before. She could stop by his place. There had been more than a few rumors of Danarius's disappearance and the lone elf that moved in. It was not far from Hawke's after all. Perhaps she could . . . Before she could persuade herself otherwise, she trudged on. Passing mansions and dark alleys, she arrived at his door. She breathed in deeply to calm her rapid heartbeat. He might not be there after all, so why should she worry? If Hawke was gone, he was most likely accompanying her. She raised her hand and rapped on the door while the other held his sash behind her back with crossed fingers. Although, there was a part of her that hoped she would see him. And she wished too soon.  
  
The door cracked open a hair's width, green eyes peering down at her beneath a lock of white hair. "Yes?" His deep voice asked, and she stood stumped for a moment. Whether he was mad or happy, she could not tell. Or maybe he just didn't care.   
  
"I'm sorry to disturb you serah, but you left this outside my booth just hours ago. I thought you might want it back immediately." She held out the sash that she'd so carefully cleaned. He opened the door wider to receive it, and for the first time she beheld him without his armor. He wore a white linen shirt that was half tucked in, the other half trailing past his waist and onto loose fitting slacks. She noted with a slight smile that a daggers handle peeked out from his half untucked shirt. He looked completely at ease, even his hair was slightly ruffled and unkempt. She then realized she was staring at him while holding out his sash. Immediately her face turned red as a tomato. He took it from her, the edges of his lips forming a smirk. "Well, I better be going," she said hastily as she turned away from him. "Wait," his voice stopped her as she twisted round. "I haven't thanked you yet for returning this. Thank you." He smiled then, truly smiled and her heart fluttered in her chest. "Of course serah." Once again she turned to go, and once again she was stopped by the sound of his voice. "It's Fenris. You should dry off here while waiting for the rain to pass. Your soaking wet." She raised her eyebrows at him. "I couldn't intrude . . ."   
  
"You wouldn't be intruding. Besides, it's getting late and people you don't want to meet will be out on the streets. I won't harm you, I promise."   
  
She thought it over. He spoke the truth about the thugs, and she knew he wouldn't harm her; though that was not why she was nervous. She was nervous about being alone with him. She'd never done such a thing before. Never been alone with a strange man, even though she hated to admit her heart fluttered in her chest when she thought of who the stranger was. As droplets of water continued to soak her wet clothing, she looked up at his waiting face with a smile. "Okay, Fenris, as long as it's no trouble."  
  
"I assure you, it isn't," he replied as he stepped back to allow her to enter. She climbed up the stone steps and passed him, entering a large but desolate room. Spider webs clung to the ceiling, and broken furniture was scattered across the floor. "Here, let me take this," he offered as she unclasped her soaking cloak from her shoulders. "Thanks," she said shyly. He hung the grey cloak next to the door, where she noticed an odd assortment of other things. A few cloaks, a sword, and other obects she couldn't make out. "I have a fire going if you wish to warm yourself," he said, and she followed him from one room to another. At last they came to a room where a fire was blazing merrily, and shadows danced across the walls. Bookshelves lined the entirety of one wall. Two chairs and a couch were placed next to the fire. "You can sit there, I'll get you some blankets and some clothes to change into." He said as he left her alone. She drew closer to the flickering flames. Her amber curls framed her face and glinted in the firelight, the flames dancing in her gray eyes. Fenris entered silently a few minutes later, and he stared at her as she stood with her back to him. She turned around, a look of surprise written on her face. "You have a lot of books, Fenris." Her stormy eyes caught his green orbs. He broke their gaze after a moment, glancing about the room nervously. "Yes," he answered quietly, as if he might be disturbing some sleeping children if he spoke too loud. Clearing his throat, he locked gazes with her again and walked towards her. "Here's a blanket and some clothes you can change into." He was so close to her she could feel his breath on her face. With a nervous smile, she took the blanket and wrapped it over her thin shoulders. "Thank you."   
  
"Of course."  
  
She walked over to his bookshelf. Leather bound classics lined the shelves, speckles of dust covering them. She ran her lithe fingers across the titles until she came to a certain one. Smiling fondly at it, she pulled it out and dust flew everywhere. "Sorry about the mess," Fenris mumbled.   
  
"No worries," Cassie smiled sweetly at him, and he stared at her for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away again. She walked over to the couch, staring at the book and almost tripped. Fenris was about to walk over and assist her, but she quickly righted herself and settled on the cushions. He sat down opposite her on a chair next to the fire.   
  
"So . . ." she began uncertainly as she stared intently at her book.  
  
"So?" He asked after a moment, prompting her to go on.  
  
"How did she like the necklace?" She stared at the well worn pages of poems. Fenris smiled. "She loved it. She couldn't believe I spent that much on her. Not that it was priced too high," he quickly amended. "She just didn't expect such treatment from me."  _Course she didn't,_  Cassie retorted in her mind as she thought of Hawke.   
  
"What are you reading?" He asked curiously as the wind howled and the windows shuttered.   
  
"Poems. My father recited poetry to me all the time when I was a little girl. He would've loved just to recite all day if you let him." She reminisced with a faraway look in her eyes, not noticing how Fenris leaned forward to hear her words. "He sounds like he's a good father."    
  
"He was."   
  
"How did he die?" He asked softly.   
  
"One winter he got pneumonia. And . . . never got better."  
  
"I'm sorry." She looked up at those words and stared into his eyes.  "That's kind of you to say."  
  
"I mean it."  
  
"I know." They stared at each other for a moment, and Cassie felt the heat rise to her cheeks. His lyrium markings glowed in the light of the fire, and she fought back the feeling of wanting to trace them with her fingertips.  
  
"Would you mind reading to me?"  
  
"Sure," she mumbled in surprise, quickly breaking her gaze and delving through the pages of the book. Quiet rustling filled the silence in the room as the pages stuck to her fingers. "Here," she cleared her throat.   
  
 _"'She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and in her eyes;  
Thus mellowed to that tender light  
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.'"_  
  
His eyes stared at her with rapt attention, and he quietly moved to her side. Not noticing, she continued her delivery of the poem.  
  
 _"'One shade the more, one ray the less,  
Had half impaired the nameless grace  
Which waves in every raven tress  
Or softly lightens o'er her face,  
Where thoughts serenely sweet express  
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.  
  
'And on that cheek and o'er that brow  
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,  
The smiles that win, the tints that glow  
But tell of days in goodness spent,  
A mind at peace with all below,  
A heart whose love is innocent.'"_  
  
"That was beautiful," he said, and her eyes widened when she noticed how close he was. Face only inches from her own, the book was the only object separating them. "Thank you . . " She mumbled as he brought up his hand and brushed a stray curl from her slightly blushing cheeks. Hard callouses were grazed into his hands, but they were surprisingly gentle as his hand traced her jawline. "Fenris . . ."   
  
"Cassie." He whispered, placing a finger over her lips to hush her. Her muddled mind registered that that was the first time he called her by name, and that he shouldn't be doing this.   
  
For what became of Hawke?  
  
"What about Hawke?" She whispered as his eyes burned in the dancing shadows.   
  
"Kerri?" She winced at the familiarity with which he spoke her name. "What about her?"  
  
"You and her are together, are you not?"  
  
"No," he smiled in surprise as if she were joking.   
  
"But the necklace, I assumed . . ."  
  
"That was for my sister."  
  
"Oh."   
  
"Are you jealous?" A smirk that she was beginning to love curled his lips.  
  
"No!"  
  
"I was hoping you might say yes." He face leaned in closer to hers, and her heart thumped so loudly against her chest she thought she was having a heart attack. His lips brushed softly against hers, and the book slowly fell from her hand. His fingers gently threaded through her hair and pulled her closer to him.   
  
"How on earth did this happen?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper as he pulled away. "Well, I have to admit it was premeditated," he answered with a smile.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Kerri noticed me staring at you every time we went to the market, and tried to get me to talk with you. Alas, it didn't work. So, she came up with the plan of me leaving my sash. I must say it turned out well."  
  
"Wait, was Hawke  _really_  at the Hanged Man?"  
  
"Kerri," he gently reprimanded her. "And no, she was hoping if you tried to go to her place and she wasn't there you would come here. And you did."  
  
"How did you know I'd return the sash?"   
  
"I just knew," he answered with a smirk as he leaned over to kiss her again, and her lips formed a smile against his. Kerri Hawke didn't sound too bad after all. Now she was grateful to her. And the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> There is no greater pleasure than writing while it's raining.......
> 
> Poem is "She Walks In Beauty," by George Gordon, Lord Byron. And Dragon Age belongs to Bioware. So, I own nothing except the plot and Cassie.


End file.
